


At Least I Would Know Where You Are

by Whyistheskyblue



Series: You Can be My Compass [6]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Bruce Feels, Gen, Human Test Subject, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Tony Feels, all the feels, prisoner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyistheskyblue/pseuds/Whyistheskyblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bruce is kidnapped, the organization responsible makes it look like a Transporter malfunction. While Tony races to fix the problem, the team is combing the world (and in Thor's case, the realms) looking for the missing doctor. Unfortunately, he's much closer to home than they think.<br/>This <i>can not</i> be read by its self. It needs, in the very least, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/841000/chapters/1603163">I'm Not That Kind of Doctor</a>, and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/861506/chapters/1651017">Beam Me Up</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was almost a no update Monday, but I pulled through at 11:37. Besides, who's counting?

Tony appeared smaller, Natasha realized. Despite the inventor's short stature he had always seemed to stand head and shoulders over the crowd. Taller than Bruce, taller than Cap even. Right now, he looked his 5'7”. 

“He's missing.” The circles under his eyes spoke of a night spent curled in his favorite chair, staring at the liquor cabinet he had promised Bruce he wouldn't touch any more. “He took the jump and no one can find him.” The words fell like stones from his mouth, dead the moment they touched the air. 

“Oh Tony.” Tasha murmured, stepping forward to wrap his arms around the man. She could see the thoughts flashing behind Tony's eyes, brilliant ideas for finding him battling self loathing. “I'm sorry.” 

“He should have been safe with my tech. Now he's gone.” Natasha hummed softly, letting the melody weave around the pair. “He's gone, Tasha.” A sob broke through his voice, cracking her name like the cracks running through his eyes. Natasha pretended not to notice the twin wet spots on her blouse when he pulled away. 

*

“Dr. Banner. How kind of you to join us.” The gently rolling words are the first thing Bruce notices. Perfectly timed, he heard them before he could feel the collar around his neck, before he felt the rough rope tying his hands and feet to the chair. Before he noticed his jacket and shoes were missing. The room was cold. 

“You sound a bit like a 'B' rated movie.” The doctor murmured, forcing his lips to shape the vowels, his tongue to hit the hard consonants. Nobody could say Tony wasn't rubbing off on him. 

“Very” he paused to find the proper word, “amusing.” The voice finished in a tone that implied it was anything but. Bruce tried to force his eyes open, tried to see something besides the glowing red that was the back of his eyelids, but they were just too heavy. It felt like trying to lift a thousand pound weight. He felt a flicker of panic, like a memory in the back of his mind, but couldn't bring himself to care. 

“Do you want something?” The mutant yawned, voice slurred. 

“The apathy you are currently feeling is a result of the sedative you were given.” 

“M'kay.” Bruce wanted to be angry, wanted to want to smash. But he couldn't bother. His thoughts moved slowly, defeated soldiers returning home from battle. The seconds clicked past, measured by the steady rise and fall of his chest. The soldiers began to pick up their feet, began to move a little faster. Before long they're running, fueled by self righteous fury and the bitter dregs of defeat. Bruce continued to breath slowly and evenly. 

“No use play acting, Dr. Banner. I am aware the sedative has run its course. And – ” he continues, seeing the the green tinge when Bruce's eyes snap open, “I must inform you that any attempt to shift into your other half will result in the collar automatically distributing another dose of the drug.” Bruce surveyed the room carefully, keeping the disappointment off his face. It was surprisingly sterile looking for a crazed super villain kidnapping outfit. Bright lights reflected off the harsh white walls, making the room seem larger than it was. The only furniture was a sturdy wooden table, the chair Bruce was tied to, and the chair his captor was lounging in. 

His captor was an unassuming man. Standing, he probably was between 5'8” and 5'10”, average height. His hair was a dusty brown, his eyes a subdued gray. His face bore the marks of age: crows feet, creases across his forehead, a softness around the jaw. Over all, he was exactly the type of man you would glance over on the street. A perfect spy. His eyes sparked with intelligence and anger, ruining his calm facade. The suit jacket rested easily on his shoulders, half concealing a clearance badge he wore flipped around. Bruce's stomach sunk. This wasn't a simple kidnapping. 

“You wouldn't by chance be a crazed fan, would you?” Bruce tried, tone deceptively light. The smile the man gave him was sharp, all teeth with a promise to make his life hell if he didn't cooperate. 

“No, no I wouldn't be.” A thick file rested on the table, its worn tab bearing his name. “I've read much about you, Dr. Banner.” The man said, hands resting on his stomach. Bruce swallowed. This man was entirely too relaxed. 

“And I don't even know your name.” Bruce racked his mind for what Tony had been teaching him about being taken hostage. The first rule is to keep talking, but not piss them off. When they're angry they'll go straight to pain. When they're amused, they'll keep talking. He hadn't wanted to know why the CEO knew so much about being kidnapped. 

“It's of little importance. You wont see me again after this.” Amusement flickered in the man's eyes. Bruce's stomach dropped further as he began to put the pieces together. The collar (similar to the one Ross had used on him), the file (obviously old and well thumbed), the room (not a temporary holding spot, but an actual interrogation room), the badge (the man had to get through security check points). 

“You're government, aren't you?” Bruce asked, tone weary. The mutant was done with the game of words. He didn't have Clint and Natasha's training, or Tony's natural snark. He just wanted answers. 

“They did tell me you were a genius.” The man said, not an actual agreement, but close enough. 

“You realize Shield _and_ the members of the Avengers Initiative will be looking for me, yes?” 

“Dr. Banner, what's the last thing you remember?” 

“I was in India, on the phone with Tony, and about to take the jump home. We had just hung up when – ” Bruce trailed off swallowing audibly. “They'll think I took the jump, and that's why I'm missing. They'll think the tech malfunctioned.” 

“That is our intention, yes.” His captor couldn't keep the small smile from playing around the corners of his mouth, the look of someone who knows they've won. Bruce struggled to keep his blossoming anger in check. Past experience told him if he allowed his rage to come out the following sedation would be, miserable to say the least. Hope flared in the back of his mind. The first thing Tony would do was pull up the tracker he had insisted on implanting in the team. He glanced at his thigh. Instead of the small, precise incision from the surgery there was a large, perfectly circular burn. “They fried the tracker at the same time they set off the jump.” The man said, meeting his eyes. 

“So it would seem I'm stuck here for the time being.” Bruce swallowed, mouth bitter with defeat. The man hummed noncommittally, standing to leave. 

“There is someone who would like to see you. I believe he's an old friend?” He smirked, tucking the file under his arm. “He'll be along shortly.” With that parting jab he left, leaving Bruce to wonder. The minuets clicked past, the mutant's worry growing with each imaginary tick of the second hand. Finally (finally) the door behind Bruce swished open, letting a gust of cold air circuit the room. Heavy footsteps echoed through the small space, causing the scientist's stomach to twist with worry. They were military footsteps, harsh and powerful. They commanded respect and attention. They stopped behind the tense mutant, out of sight but very much in mind. A harsh hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head back. Angry eyes bore into his, a mocking smile twisting the man's lips. 

“Banner. It's been awhile.” His voice hadn't changed. 

“General Ross.” Bruce swallowed, voice shaking a little. “What a pleasant surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evil cliff hanger (is hanging from a cliff! And that's why they call him Cliff Hanger!) is evil. I know. Why do you think I left him hanging?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm relatively new to AO3, I had no idea what it was like to have people who regularly read/kudos/comment. I have termed you the 'regular suspects' in my mind, and I'd like to thank you. It's not only flattering but it encourages me to write.  
> I was active on Figment for a long time way back when. The site has changed a lot and I no longer get on all that much anymore. One thing I can say is that it was much harder to get reads, and most people who commented/hearted didn't actually read what you wrote, they were just hoping you would go heart something of theirs to return the favor.

Time momentarily ceased to exist. Bruce was aware of it as an abstract concept, but at the moment it didn't seem to be real. There was no way a man from so many years ago could leave him feeling like he needed to throw up. No way a man from so long ago could leave him feeling worthless with only a glance. 

“Banner, your not paying attention.” A sharp yank of his hair brought time crashing back down on him. 

“Apologies, General.” Bruce said, struggling to keep his tone light despite the frantic tattoo his heart was beating against his chest. 

“It's not all that different from last time. You'll figure it out.” Ross shrugged, anger sparking in his eyes at his captive's inattentiveness. Bruce flinched. An angry General Ross was never conductive to his health. Ross finally released the mutant's hair, allowing the man to rest his tired neck. He stepped around the chair, giving Bruce his first proper look at the man. The years had not treated him well. There was a thickness around his stomach you rarely saw in military men. His face was creased and pitted, bitterness and rage permanently etched into the furrow between his eyebrows and the hard lines around his mouth. Thaddeus Ross was not a man who had spent much time smiling. 

The ropes around his ankles tightened cruelly before they were pulled off, bringing tears of pain to Bruce's eyes as circulation returned suddenly. It was proof of how far gone he was that he hadn't noticed the spreading numbness before. His hands received the same treatment, his swollen fingers tingling when dropped into his lap. 

Ross tipped him out of the chair, the doctor gasping as he found himself falling at 9.81 m/s to the hard concrete floor. Throwing out his hands on instinct, Bruce barely managed to catch himself before face planting. Ross made a noise of disappointment. The mutant waited, fear tightening his chest. He didn't move. If he could remember one thing from his first time in the General's hospitality, it was that if he was in a position, it was because that was how he was wanted. And it was easiest to do what Ross wanted. It meant less pain that pointless rebellion could bring. 

“I can see why Stark like you.” Ross began to circle him, feet stopping near his face. “You look good on your hands and knees.” His voice was suspiciously soft, too kind for the words and the setting. “You broke her heart you know. When you turned out to be a fagot.” A booted foot tapped his chin, signaling him to look up. The ever present rage was burning in Ross's eyes. Bruce's chest tightened a little more. The boot tapped his shoulder this time, giving him permission to sit back on his heels. “You always obeyed so well.” Ross murmured, stepping behind the doctor to cruelly twist his arms into hand cuffs. “After we beat the rebellion out, of course. Do you remember?” He tugged up on the bound wrists, pulling the doctor to his feet. “The way you fought in the beginning? But what else can be expected from an animal?” 

Bruce wanted to fight. To overpower the man and take off down the hall. Not because he would make it very far, but to prove he could. To prove he was more than Thaddeus's trained pet. He was a person. An intelligent one, at that. He held a doctorate in physics and had traveled the world helping people. Because of his efforts there were people in third world countries receiving schooling and medical attention and clean water. His rebellion must have flashed in his eyes. 

“None of that now.” Ross said, clipping a chain onto the hand cuffs. Bruce's face burnt with humiliation. Not only was he collared and treated like an animal, he was leashed like one. “At least I didn't clip it the the collar.” Bruce could hear the smirk in Ross's voice. _At least I'm not making you crawl_ the smile said as the man maneuvered him out of the room. 

  


Bruce curled up under the cot, pulling the sheet over the side. It was the only way to get any darkness in his cell, where the lights were left on at all times. Bruce understood the psychology behind it. By refusing to give him the most basic way to tell time, they could twist his perception. They could feed him every other day and make him think two days were truly one and time had slowed to a crawl. They could feed him twice and make him think he had been captured longer than he had been, breaking his morale. Combined with the fact he had no idea how long he had been knocked out after he was taken meant time was slipping very quickly indeed, barely clinging to his finger tips. 

They hadn't been that bad so far. It was the basics. Blood samples (making him look like a junky), a few half hearted hits from Ross. He wasn't allowed a shirt, and the pants they had given him were thin cotton, but at least he was permitted clothes. He knew they were a fragile privilege that could easily be revoked. It had happened before. He was cold, but he wouldn't die of hypothermia. It just made it harder to sleep, forcing him to endure the hours of idleness without even that escape. 

“Light a Roman Candle with me.” He sang tunelessly, trying to remember the words that Tony had sung to him last New Years Eve, the pair curled beneath a blanket on the roof. The fireworks had been breath taking from that high up. “Just a Roman Candle, you can wear your sandals.” The one thing Ross couldn't take was his mind; the memories he had of happiness he hadn't had as a younger man. “And I'll pour you just one cuppa tea.” Tony laughed through his memory, banishing the nightmares he had the few time he managed to sleep. Tony promised to find him, and Anthony Edward Stark always kept his promises. 

Bruce yawned contentedly. The small space was beginning to warm up from his body heat, the half filtered light more relaxing than pitch black would be. Darkness was a punishment. “If we were honest and both wrote a sonnet, together a sandwich with everything on it.” Bruce's brow furrowed. That couldn't be right. No way someone would actually write such ridiculous lyrics. Relaxing into the warmth, he allowed the sleep that had been lapping at the edges of his mind to carry him into unconsciousness. 

*

Tony ran through the data again, hands flying across the screen. It just didn't make sense. The transporter was activated, it went steady for about ten seconds, and then it just disappeared, like it had never existed in the first place. He lost Bruce's tracker data at the same time. He hadn't been using a new model. It was standard issue, used by Shield operatives in the field. It had never malfunctioned before. 

“God damn it.” He wanted to punch someone. Instead he motioned Butterfingers over to fill up his coffee mug. He wanted a drink. He wanted to drink so badly it was almost a physical need, a psychosomatic longing. 

“Sir, Agent Romanova has initiated code G771.” Jarvis interrupted. 

“What do you want?” Tony snapped, whirling to glare at the spy. His vision blurred from the sudden movement. 

“It's been three days Tony. You're going to bed.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Do I need to remind you Bruce has gave me permission to sedate you while he was away if you did something like this?” 

“Don't you dare.” Tony spat, cold fury clawing in his stomach. “Bruce isn't in India. He's fucking missing. Missing, Natasha. And I have to find him.” 

“You're of no use to him like this. You're not rational.” The assassin reasoned, her voice steady. “If I have to get Cap to hold you down because I need to sedate you, I will.” 

“He's gone. I _need_ him and he's gone.” The genius deflated, anger suddenly gone. “This is all I can do. I can't comb a forest or a desert like you and Clint. I can't handle the military politic crap with other countries like Cap. I can't search the realms like Thor. All I can do is figure out where my tech malfunctioned.” He swallowed. “I'm next to useless.” 

“You are useless to him if you're not functioning at a hundred percent.” Natasha knew her words were cruel. “Now go to bed.” Sighing, Tony headed for the door, weariness in every step. “Tony, I'm not letting you back in until you've rested eight hours, eaten, and taken a shower.” The inventor nodded, stepping through the door. “Got that Jarvis?” 

“Crystal clear, madame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like music, can you tell? Bruce is singing [Light a Roman Candle With Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKoBTEcq8Ck) By fun. Despite what he thinks, those are the real lyrics. Oh Mr. Ruess, what will we do with you?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had to be written twice, and that's why it's late. The first one kind of sucked. If you could read it you'd thank me. ;)

Tony rolled over in bed, seeking the warmth of the other body that normally occupied it. Then he remembered. Rolling back, he felt the familiar tightness stirring in his chest, pressing his lungs against the reactor, making it hard to breath. 

“Jarvis?” He wheezed. 

“Good morning, sir. It is one twenty-eight pm. You have slept approximately sixteen hours.” Tony's chest tightened further. “Sir, I must remind you to breath.” All the air rushed out of the genius’s lungs. He hadn't realized he had been holding it in. “Very good, sir. Now in again.” Tony let the AI talk him through breathing, the calm voice soothing him. 

“You should have woken me up.” Tony finally mumbled, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. 

“Agent Romanova said you need to shower and eat before I may allow you back in the lab.” Jarvis reminded him, prompting him to stand and turn towards the bathroom. 

  


Tony shuffled into the kitchen, hair wet and mussed. Phil was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. 

“Pancakes, Phil? At two pm?” Tony asked, disbelief coloring his voice. 

“I like to take care of my assets.” Phil shrugged. “Now sit.” 

“I'm not exactly an asset.” Tony grumbled, sitting like Phil had told him. Tony didn't miss the flicker of satisfaction that crossed the agent's face when he did as he was told. 

“You're part of the team I put together, Tony. Asset or not, it makes you mine.” Phi, slid the pancakes in front of Tony, smile skirting around the corners of his mouth. 

“You're very possessive, aren't you?” The genius asked, cutting a bite off. “Oh, god.” He moaned. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. “Giving you assets with sugar is a funny way of taking care of them.” He pointed out, stuffing another bite in his mouth. 

“Don't talk with food in your mouth.” Phil frowned. “And you need comfort food right now more than anything. You're skinny enough.” Tony humed noncommittally, shoveling more pancake in. Natasha sauntered in snatching a plate and a kiss from Phil. 

“How many pancakes has he has?” She asked, watching him wolf down another. 

“Four.” Phil answered, pouring the last of the mix into the pan. 

“Jarvis, you can unlock the lab.” She told the AI, taking a dainty bite from her own plate. Tony jumped to his feet. 

“Finish your pancake, Tony.” Phil ordered, voice steel. Sighing, the inventor picked the half eaten flapjack up and crammed it in his mouth, covering his face and hands in syrup. He paused to nod at Natasha before turning on his heel and running out. 

*

Bruce gasped awake, cold water splashing over his torso. His first instinct was to try and twist out of the sheet , but someone's hands are already there, pulling the wet cotton away from his body. Bruce could feel the cold trickle down his body, damp pants and shirt (one of the lab techs had given him one by accident and Ross hadn't taken it yet) causing him to shiver whenever a gust of cold air from the hallway pushed into the room. 

“Kneel.” Ross sounded bored, but that was just a part of the game. Bruce knew if he were to meet his eyes they would be burning with the same rage. The mutant slid onto the floor, sitting back on his heels while he waited for his next instruction. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Less than a week (he hoped it had been less than a week) and he was already willing to roll over for Ross. Never mind the years he had spent forgetting the “training” the General had put him through. 

Ross stepped behind him, leaving Bruce's line of sight. The mutant almost sighed with relief when he clamped the handcuffs on and pulled him up. Cuffs normally meant the lab, and in the lab (although being experimented on was never pleasant) he could expect mildly intelligent conversation and a day or two free from being hit. Ross slipped the blindfold over his eyes and led him out, fingers bruising his bicep. 

“Hello, General.” He heard one of the scientist greet Ross. He recognized the voice. She was a sweet thing; always had a smile for Bruce and a kind touch. “May I walk with you?” Ross grunted noncommittally, and the woman fell into step with the pair, her heels clipping in time to the heavy clump of Thaddeus's boots. She chattered quietly, filling the silence with senseless noise. Then she asked Ross if he had seen the game last night, and the two fell into a quiet discussion about football. Bruce wanted to throw up. Football was a Sunday night game. He had been taken on a Wednesday. 

“I'll take him from here, General.” The woman said, her small hand sliding around his arm. Ross (surprisingly) let go, allowing the woman to walk off with his favorite anger management toy in tow. “I'm sorry.” She whispered to Bruce, opening a door. Once in the lab she slipped the blindfold off and signed him in. 

“Today we're doing pain management.” Another scientist said, sliding up to the pair. Bruce turned so the cuffs could be unlocked, forcing his breathing to remain calm and slow. 

“Hasn't really changed all that much over the years.” He informed them with a shrug. “Growing up with a parent regularly beating you means it's pretty high to start with.” Bruce knew he was being cruel. It wasn't their fault his situation sucked. 

“Yes, well.” The man trailed off, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Shirt off and on the table. You know the drill.” The mutant repressed a wince as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. The woman gasped softly. He knew he was a sight. Molted bruises covered his torso, vivid blues and purples against his skin. They were too fresh to of yellowed yet. 

“We can't do the experiments with him like this.” The woman protested. “The data will be compromised.” The man sighed, running a hand through his hair before pulling out a cell phone. A StarkPhone he had helped design, Bruce noted. 

“Please have General Ross sent to the lab.” He said into the line. “As soon as convenient – yes, it can wait a few minutes.” 

“You can put your shirt back on.” The woman told him, smiling sadly. Bruce's stomach rolled. He didn't want her pity; didn't need it. They sat in silence, waiting for the door to open and the general to come in. 

“Banner, what have you screwed up this time?” Ross barked, walking through the door. Bruce did wince this time. He was going to have hell to pay over this. The general snapped and pointed at his feet, signaling Bruce to come kneel. 

“He didn't do anything.” The woman protested hotly, glaring at the general as Bruce obeyed his silent order. 

“I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from bruising the subject for a few days.” The older scientist said, silencing her with a stern look. “It will compromise the data we need to collect.” The man handed Ross a bottle of pills. “These should speed up the healing process. Bring him back in two days.” Bruce's stomach gave a little jump as Ross blindfolded him and recuffed him. Two days not only without experiments, but without being Ross's personal punching bag. 

Ross practically threw him into the room, uncuffing him in the hallway and shoving him in with the blindfold still on. Lying on the floor Bruce promised himself if Ross hadn't come back by the time he counted to a thousand he would get up and take the blindfold off. At eight hundred sixty-two the lights turned off, casting the cell into total darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my regular suspects,  
> I'm giving you an advance notice there will not be updates Friday, Saturday, or (most likely) Sunday. I'm going to be at RTX (the Rooster Teeth Convention). Anybody out there who's going and is interested in saying hi - I'm a girl, a little on the short side, have brown hair and bangs, wear glasses, and will be carrying a turquoise backpack with hipster glasses and a mustache. It has a silver teapot charm on the bottom zipper. Just mention you read this on AO3 so I don't think you're crazy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. In my defense yesterdays chapter had me up until two am, and I had to go to a parade this morning. I'm a grumpy kitty right now.
> 
> Also, I'm kinda in shock. I finally clicked the 'statistics' tab (I was curious as to what it was) and "I'm Not That Kind of Doctor" has over 2,000 hits and 50 kudos's. It makes up about half my total hits, third of my Kudos's, half my book marks, and almost all my subscriptions. It's just, wow. I wrote something people love that much?

Tony glared at the figures dancing across the screen. He knew there was an anomaly somewhere, he could practically taste it. 

“Agent Barton requested I tell you he is coming through the ventilation, sir.” Jarvis interrupted. Tony glanced at the clock. He had only been working eight hours, and he had eaten six hours ago. 

“Can you shut him out?” Tony demanded, going back to the data. 

“Unfortunately sir, even I can not spontaneously change the lay out of the building.” Tony could swear the AI was laughing at him. 

“I swear to holy hell, Barton. I'm going to fuse that fucking thing shut.” The inventor yelled at the ceiling. Clint's faint laughter echoed back, seeming to envelope the room. 

“Nat wrote on the schedule that this was your feeding time.” The agent shrugged, dropping into the room several minutes later. “Chinese take out sound good?” 

“Tasha wrote a schedule?” Tony asked, torn between being angry and flattered. 

“You have to get eight hours of sleep for every twenty-four you spend up, and once you wake up I'm supposed to feed you according to the times on it.” Clint dug the instructions out of his pocket. “She was very specific, and I don't want to deal with an angry Nat when she gets back.” Tony could agree with that. “ With a sigh the archer dropped the boxes on a mostly empty lab table. The genius wandered over, picking up a random box and grabbing chopsticks. 

“So, why are you back?” Tony asked between bites of almond chicken. “Weren't you in like, Ecuador or something?” 

“Or something.” Clint agreed, opening a few boxes until he found Sweet and Sour. 

“Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting entry.” Jarvis interrupted. 

“That explains why you got so much food.” Tony muttered. “Let him in, Jarvis.” Cap smiled at Tony as he crossed the lab, looking around with interest. Unlike most of the team, he never had much cause to come down here. Clint needed his arrows and Tasha need her various gadgets, but Steve only needed his suit (Stark design) and hi shield (Stark design, pre-Tony). Unlike Phil, he never stopped for social calls or to see how the duo was doing. 

“Did you get the shrimp with the honey?” He asked, going through the cartons. 

“No, I didn't get the one thing you always ask for.” Clint replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Weren't you in Istanbul, talking with the Turkish Prime Minister or whatever?” Tony asked, suspicious. 

“Well,” Steve replied, shifting nervously. “Natasha and Phil were needed, and the Prime Minister didn't have Bruce, so there wasn't any reason for me not to come back.” 

“What would Natasha and Phil, wait a second.” Tony cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Am I on suicide watch?” Cap ducked his head, cheeks coloring. Clint's eyes glazed over. “Are you shitting me?” 

“It's standard Shield procedure.” Clint finally shrugged, taking another bite. “In the case of someone a Shield agent holds dear being taken they must be supervised at all times by at least two others. You know, in case they decide to try and give into the kidnappers demands and reveal sensitive information. Or in case they try and make a trade.” 

“Or if they try and kill themselves.” Cap added. “Since you brought up being on suicide watch.” Tony paused a moment, brain whirling. 

“That makes sense.” He finally conceded slowly. “But I'd still like to see either of you try and stop me from hacking Shield.” 

“It's not a perfect system.” Clint agreed. “But it rarely happens, and it's never happened to a programmer, oddly enough.” 

“But Bruce wasn't kidnapped.” Tony pointed out. “He's just missing.” 

“We don't know if the tech spit him out in where-the-heck-istan and he wasn't picked up by someone like Ten Rings or Hydra.” Steve pointed out, waving his chopsticks. 

“Careful with those things, Cap.” Clint grumped. “You're going to take someone eye out.” 

“At least he can use them now.” Tony snickered. “I think I still have video footage of his first try.” 

“Would you like me to play it, sir?” Jarvis asked, amusement tinging his voice. Steve's cheeks burned, a hot red against his tan skin. 

“I think we'll spare Cap for the moment.” Tony laughed. The trio finished their meal in silence, Tony going over the papers again. He knew there was something wrong, he just couldn't put a finger on it. 

*

Bruce rested his forehead on his knees, pressed as far into the corner as he could go. The rough concrete kept him grounded. It reminded him that he was not stranded, floating in an abyss. He was Bruce Banner. He was in a cell in a military base. He was probably back in the states. He was not caught in blackness. 

“You can be my compass.” He sang softly, his voice echoing off the walls, reminding him they existed. “Teach me how to read these broken lines.” Tony had sung this song after the first time they had slept together, his back pressed firmly against the arc reactor as Tony crooned softly. “Hold me like a lover.” A sob caught in his throat, cracking the word. “We'll find a way to run away tonight.” The words centered him, pulling him out of the pit he had been falling into. “Tell me when it's over.” Another sob, the tears making wet tracks down his face. “Promise that you'll always keep me in mind.” He had been here five days, six days? They would find him. Tony wouldn't give up. “Burning like a soldier.” The tears left damp spots on his shirt. “I'll find my way to you and save the day.” Tony would find him. Tony would save him from the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is singing [Happy Endings are Stories That Haven't Ended Yet ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEL6ojDVwaM) by Mayday Parade.  
> No, when I named the series I had no idea I was going to write it in.  
> Yes, my music really is so eclectic that I listen to local folk artists, fun., and Mayday Parade. And lots of other bands that don't relate to these three at all. I don't just go looking for random songs to write in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update for the holiday! Hooray!

Bruce found he could measure time by how often the little slot in his door flipped open, giving him light and a pill. The pills were distributed once every six hours (this wasn’t his first rodeo), so he got four a day, eight total. The sudden burst of light never failed to wake the mutant to whatever fitful rest he managed to fall into. It was his countdown to when he would be allowed human interaction. It was his lifeline to sanity. That two seconds of light meant another four hours was over. It meant the end was that much closer. 

Seven pills and four hours later the lights flickered back on. Bruce hid his face in the cot, the too bright lights stinging his eyes. Minutes later Ross clumped into his room, anger written into every wrinkle and crease in his face. He hadn’t done well without his favorite form of stress relief. Bruce automatically slid off the cot, kneeling while he waited for the general to decide what he wanted to do. It was an action born from the fear that had stained his mind the last two days; born from the sweat that had soaked his clothes, the tears he had cried, the demons that had danced through the cell taunting him. It was a plea to not be cast back into the darkness. 

“You need a shower.” Ross declared, wrinkling his nose. Bruce had been lucky enough to find the toilet every time he had needed it, but without light he hadn’t been able to use the sink to maintain basic cleanliness. The mutant ducked his head in silent apology. “Come on then.” He reached down and hauled Bruce to his feet, not bothering with handcuffs. He knew Bruce didn’t need them when he was in this state. All he needed was a heavy hand on his shoulder and he would follow blindly. 

Ross didn’t know why being left alone in the dark had such an effect on Bruce. It was simply a weakness he twisted to his advantage. He didn’t know that, as a child, Bruce had once been locked in a closet for three days as punishment for asking too many questions about advanced sciences. He didn’t know that every time Bruce changed, he was lost in a dark abyss with no connection to the outside world if Hulk didn’t deem it fit to give him one. He didn’t know that most nights Bruce fell asleep with his head pillowed on Tony’s chest so he would be closer to the light the arc reactor gave. 

True to his word, Ross permitted Bruce a quick, freezing, shower before taking him to the lab. His pants were replaced, but not the shirt. Bruce welcomed the feeling of clean cloth on clean skin, the gentle glide of fabric rather than the stick of grime and sweat. It was a rare privilege. 

“Thank you general.” The older of the two scientist said in his soft spoken way. The mutant wasn’t allowed to know their names. “Up on the table, Dr. Banner.” He told Bruce, waiting for his order to be obeyed. Bruce swallowed down his panic, climbing slowly onto the table and laying back. 

“Incase you don’t remember,” the woman told him, one of her sad smiles skirting the corners of her mouth, “the purpose of this round of tests is to see how much physical pain you can endure before you are forced to change.” Bruce liked these two infinitely more than he liked the last two scientist who had done this to him. These two treated him like a person, an intelligent person. The last two had treated him like a lab animal, which he supposed, in some ways, he was. 

Bruce lay still allowing her to strap the metal cuffs over his wrists and ankles. 

“You tested remarkably high last time.” She reminded him. Bruce wanted to snort. The other two had almost been reduced to removing internal organs before he had finally lost control, just as much due to fear as it was too the pain. Bruce took a deep breath as her heels clipped away. Closing his eyes he thought of Tony. Of Tony laughing, of Tony singing, of Tony spinning in circles through the lab, hands thrown out and eyes wide with childish amusement. Then his world dissolved into pain. 

*

“Jarvis, bring up the tracker data again.” Something about the numbers didn’t make sense. He had a second by second blow of where Bruce was, right up until the transporter went offline. “Jarvis, bring up the tracker data and the numbers from another jump.” The tracker was bothering him. He quickly scanned both sets, feeling like it should be obvious. It had been a week, A week of nothing. No errors found with the tech, no programming glitches. There shouldn’t have been anything wrong with the pad. 

“Oh my God.” Tony breathed. He felt so stupid. How had he not noticed it? “Jarvis, Bruce wasn’t on that jump.” 

“How can you be certain, sir?” The AI asked cautiously. he didn’t want Tony getting excited over nothing. 

“It’s so basic.” Tony laughed, tears of relief pouring down his face. “On every other jump I loose tracker data as soon as the jump initiates. We’re not sure why yet, but it’s not a big deal because I regain it as soon as the jump ends.” Tony laughed again. “On this jump, I have Bruce’s data until the jump terminates mid flight. He never moved. He was still in India when the jump ended.” 

“That would seem to be conclusive data, sir.” Jarvis agreed, relief tingeing his voice. 

“Get Tasha and Cap down here. And I want Fury on the line yesterday.” Tony switched into CEO mode. He was going to get Bruce back, and whoever took him was going to have hell to pay.


	6. sorry...

Still not an update. I have bad news and good news. Bad news is that the case of my laptop cracked near the hinge, making it impossible to open or close. Good news is it's a simple repair and should be done in a few days. I just need to let the apoxy set and screw the whole thing back together and apoxy the missing screws. Sorry for the delay! As an apology, I'll take the first five requests (and maybe more if I'm feeling particularly contrite).


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, my writing style has changed a lot over the last half year. The second part of this chapter is nothing at all like the first part, or like any other part of the series. It's more thought based than action based, more showing than telling, etc. I think it's a change for the better. Feel free to comment if you think differently. Or don't. Your choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm, can I bribe you into forgetting that wait with promises of fanfic to come?  
> My latest Science bro's project (non-series) is [Automata](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1110904/chapters/2236711). It's a non-powers steampunk AU.  
> My most recently/regularly updated work is [Penitence and Requiem](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1169906/chapters/2380309). It's a [Lackadaisy](http://www.lackadaisycats.com/comic.php?comicid=1) fanfic and if you haven't read the Lackadaisy web-comic you need to. Like, seriously.
> 
> So, Ch 6 is still up because I WILL get around to filling those prompts. I promise. Just like I promised to eventually finish this. It happened, right?
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://whyistheskygray.tumblr.com/)! I'm new, but hey. Give me prompts and find out random stuff about my life in NYC.

“Bruce.” Ross's voice is strangely gentle. He must be squatting down, because he sounds far too close, more like a whisper in his ear then the commanding bellow Bruce had come to associate him with. “I want you to stand up.” A soft hand grasps his elbow, helping him first to his knees, then his feet. The blindfold is wet, clinging to his eyes, but the mutant can bring himself to care. It's just dark. The general continued to hold his elbow, pulling him gently to prompt him to walk. 

“General.” Bruce tried to plead. The word stuck in his throat, trapped between the growing fear and preexisting panic. One foot caught behind the other, causing him to stumble into the other man. Ross doesn't hit him. He doesn't yell at Bruce for being clumsy. That scared the mutant more than anything. Ross was, well _Ross_. He blustered and shouted and took his anger out on Bruce over the smallest things. That was the routine. This, this scared Bruce more than any of that could. This was a break in routine. 

“Now Bruce.” Ross murmured, pushing him gently into a chair. “I know you can replicate your experiment.”Bruce's stomach dropped. He frantically shook his head. He couldn't do it. He was a freak. The result of an accident. The explosion would be impossible to replicate, Bruce's temperament even harder. That was the secret to the whole ordeal. Cap became a good guy because he was, inherently, good. Red Skull turned out to be bad. And Bruce's inner conflict turned him into a raging monster who only came out to play when the scientist was angry or scared. 

“Please.” He whispered, hating himself. He had worked so hard to put the General and his “conditioning” behind him, and yet in less than a week (he hoped it was less than a week) he was ready to roll over. The only thing he could ever refuse the general was the one thing the man wanted. He refused to give up the experiment. 

“Bruce, we're being nice.” The hand rubbed his neck, thumb brushing over the Atlas Cervical. 

“I can't.” He sobbed. “I'm sorry.” And he was. He really, truly was sorry. Less than a week, and he was putty in Ross's hands. The general , pulled him up by the shoulders, moving him across the room. “I'm sorry.” He tried again, whispering. 

“I know you are.” The words were soothing as Ross began to slip a straps around his torso, hands tightening and buckling him into what felt like a climbing harness. He finished by adding cold metal hand cuffs. “I'm going to leave you alone now Bruce. I want you to think about what you've done.” He fit wax plugs into the mutants ears, giving his cheek a loving pat before Bruce's feet were pulled up off the ground. Bruce felt the tears leak out from under the blind fold. He wanted to scream at Ross, tell him he hadn't done anything wrong. Maybe he did and just couldn't hear it. In the sling all he could feel was a light pressure under his arms and legs, supporting his weight. He couldn't see or hear anything. Bruce had never felt so alone. 

*

Clint was the one who found Bruce. After the fighting was over, after Ross had been killed, after the scientists had been put into handcuffs and their data destroyed by a very angry Iron Man who said nobody had the right to know those things. That was when Clint found Bruce. The doctor was suspended in some sort of BDSM harness. He didn't move or acknowledge the archer's presence. 

“Bruce?” Clint called softly, waiting to see if he responded. For a terrible moment, the archer though he might be dead. Then the doctor moaned. Clint backed out of the room, knowing the first thing Bruce saw didn't need to be him. 

*

Bruce woke up warm. Which was unusual. Normally he woke up in his cell, cold unless he had created a tent and was sleeping fitfully on the cement floor. But Bruce woke up both warm and comfortable, which ruled that option out. The place he woke up in had a pillow, which ruled out his cell, and it smelled like Tony. Like Tony after a his Sunday morning cigarette and two cups of coffee. The doctor refused to open his eyes, because he couldn't be awake. This had to be an technicolor, surround sound, four dimensional dream because there was no way he was just back with Tony. He wasn't that lucky. 

His bladder was what finally forced him awake. Combined with the fact he felt clean in his dream, he didn't want to spoil it with wetting himself. The lights in the room were dim. Not bright, not dark. A comfortable in between that allowed him to wake up slowly and look around. The doctor almost cried. It looked like his and Tony's bedroom. It smelled like Tony. One of his button downs was tossed over the back of a rocking chair that looked like theirs. The bed smelled like his and Tony's cologne. Bruce knew it couldn't be real. Bruce knew it had to be a trick. He was a monster, good things couldn't happen to him anymore. He shuffled into the bathroom, not sure whether to expect the fantasy to be continued their as well. It was. 

The doctor heard the outer door creak open when he flushed the toilet. He took his time washing his hands, enjoying the warm water and cleanliness that came with it. He didn't want to spoil the illusion by seeing Ross. Didn't want to walk into his “bedroom” and see the general there. He paused with his hand on the knob. He couldn't walk anyway. 

*

Tony almost punched the wall when Bruce crawled out of the bathroom. He almost punched the wall when Bruce flinched when he walked over to him. He knelt next to the doctor, legs bending gracelessly as he collapsed, trying to get eye level. 

“Bruce.” He whispered, taking the other man by the shoulders. “Bruce, please look at me.” Bruce shook his head, studying the weave in the carpet. “Why not?” Tony pleaded. 

“If I look up the illusion ends, and I'll be all alone again.” The mutant whispered. “I don't want to be alone anymore.” 

“I wont disappear, Bruce. I promise.” Tony murmured. “Just look at me.” The doctor looked up, eyes brimming with tears. 

“You can't be real.” Bruce whispered. “Good things can't happen anymore.” Tony wanted to punch Ross. 

“Yes they can.” He whispered instead. “Good things can still happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that happened. Yeah. I might be going to hell over this one.


End file.
